Game Moderator series
by Red Guardsman
Summary: I decided to put all the omakes I wrote for Ryuugi's (rgm0005) work in this handy collection. The original threads may be found on SpaceBattles, under the title "The Games We Play".
1. Chapter 1

**The original work which these are based on may be found on Spacebattles. Search for "The Games We Play" by the one and only Ryuugi. His icon is a red-backed Darth Vader looking to choke you. Fittingly, the caption of it is 'Who's your Daddy?'**

 **To clarify - these are my omakes for another story. They can be counted as a mini-series in terms of length, but the original premise behind them is not mine. Credit to Ryuugi for the setting; to me goes simple skill in putting something together that doesn't look too bad.**

 **The latest thread's index may be found here: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/**

 **At the time of writing, it was up to the 160th page.**

 **Thank you for your time. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **The Games We Play Omake, or perhaps second author's work**  
 **It's Happening**

I started on the way to Junior's club. Really, I was more worried about the potential reputation gain - and how I could maximise that - as a by-product of healing over the injuries of the day before. That did twinge a bit; surely those dudes wouldn't have been so deep in criminal activities that they would be arrested as soon as they got out of hospital? Knowing Junior he'd probably only have them do light bouncer work. Although the issue of being understaffed did crop up to mind, I ended the thought process where it was and kept on walking.

It was a while before I realised I wasn't moving anywhere.

Promptly, I stopped. None of my abilities or my extra senses warned of incoming danger, so I was safe for the most part.

Or at least, that's what I think is happening. I might be wrong. Corrections welcome!

It occurred to me that it would be good to have a look around. My trusty Observe, lovingly honed to its level ninety-nine got a decent enough using as I looked around.

It looked as if everything else was stopped, too. I saw a car on the street, stopped as readily as if it had collided with a building, minus the resultant structural damage. In fact, with my Observe as high as it was I could see the smoke coming out of the clunky fuel-burner's exhaust.

The smoke, too, was not moving. That was probably a bad thing.

I was free to look around, at the very least. I took another step forward, looking around some more-

Hold on. I took a step forward?

I very slowly turned around. I came face-to-face with myself. And I would promptly have screamed under normal circumstances, but I honestly didn't feel like it.

Ziz appeared on the roof of the building to my direct north, perching and waiting as peacefully as a pigeon. Never mind the fact that the building, absolutely microscopic by comparison, probably couldn't hold the weight of the thing. Another quick Observe revealed to me that it was indeed not right and proper, as its feet were equal size to a normal bird's feet.

And everything went to mush.

Then, it was as if the universe had hiccuped and I was out like a light.

.-x-.

"Hello?" I heard someone say in my general direction, vague and muffled. It wasn't my voice and I seemed to be lying down. Why was everything so blurry? I shook the cobwebs loose - that is, shook my head from side to side like a brick stonewall of a bear waking up from a hard winter - and opened my eyes.

Turns out I was indeed lying down, and there was someone leaning over me. Someone in a nurse's outfit. From here two thoughts emerged; first, that this is the type of greeting you give to see if someone is awake before attempting cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Second, that if there was a nurse here...

The sound of the alarms and the murmur of voices then hit me. I sat up properly, observing the scene. A red sedan was halfway onto the kerb, heading off the road and bearing a very large dent in where the engine should have been. Looking upwards, I saw that whoever was driving it - a singular, wispy and frail-looking older woman - was unconscious, airbags and seatbelt working fine to protect her.

The police were present, as well as the fire service - men of the latter checking over the car and bringing hand tools to bear to see if they could bring it back to a serviceable condition. Police were questioning and calming the few bystanders, with a few others putting up tape around the area to hold off the slowly-gathering crowd of onlookers. I used Observe on the lot - just general populace, the very greatest of them standing at a proud level 16. The police officers were double that.

Also, shattered fragments and shards of glass were everywhere. It then occurred to me that I had a few pains in my back. I would have reached around to heal it, but the nurse's hand grabbed mine.

"Whoa. Slow down. You were hit and it's not safe for you to move around that much."

"Hit? What?" I oh so eloquently asked.

"Her brakes cut out just as her engine started playing up. She ended up going off the kerb and hitting you. Or that's what those guys say." the nurse jerked her head over towards the focused fire-crewmen who were heading back into their truck. Said contraption then started up and drove off, sans the alarms and lights.

"So... she hit me?" I asked. Still not really grasping the fact that it happened to begin with. What was the chance of that just happening? Was this a sign I needed to improve my Luck?

"Yes." the nurse very patiently explained.

"I think she needed more car."

And the nurse, despite how terrible that statement was, let out a snort. I could feel society getting a tiny bit worse. "Right. You get up and go stand over by there. We-"

"Rybeka, go handle the crash victim. I've got things here." a new, unknown person said, interrupting the now-named nurse. She took one look at the man, then nodded and hurried away from me to the car. It turned out to be a police officer looking more senior than the rest, sitting at level 29 and bearing skills based around improving his Charisma.

"Come on, up on your feet and we'll go to the station." he said, reaching out to help me up. I took the offered hand and got to my feet.

I just got hit by a car, that was the evidence from what I could see and deduce, but to be honest I was kind of freaking out about what I saw before. Ziz back. Time stopped. My own vision stepping out of my body, mid-time-stop. Was that... a hallucination? A ridiculously complex Aura experiment gone wrong? The result of a really, really bad concussion and a WIS skill of over 200?

As I walked and followed the police officer, something of importance happened. The police officer suddenly turned off to the left and left me standing there.

"Hello. How about you come with me?" another man, clad in a scruffy leather coat, asked of me. Not seeing a reason not to, and really still trying to figure out what the hell that vision was from before, I indeed up and went to follow him.

It occurred to me that Observing this new stranger might be a good idea. I promptly used the skill on him.

 **The Almighty Janitor**  
 **Game Moderator**

.-x-.

We began walking. It could have been a second, it could have been an eternity. That's the sort of things I'm caught up in, I guess. My abilities and kinda freaky senses were just... not there. Like It was on mute, or like they hadn't been there at all. The sensitivity was all there, though. I could feel my heart roar and thunder in my chest, each muscle-fiber bundle working to pump about my limbs forward and backward. My lungs and each of their cells expanding and deflating, processing away the oxygen from each breath of air.

We ended up walking up a set of stairs of the porch of a log cabin. I looked around to see lush grassland and rolling hills, under a clear blue sky with the sun making the few sparse cumulostratae bright and high in the skies. The porch overlooked a cliff, at the foot of which was a perfect beach. The ocean breeze had a light hint of the highlands - of farmland and forests, rain and rocks.

He pulled on the handle of a cooler, and took out a bottle. Popping the top for himself before reaching back in and offering me one. I realize that testosteriffic bonding-time with someone who is essentially a god to my world was being put on offer, but I elected to ignore it.

Aside from those two text lines which frankly left me on the verge of needing brown pants, my Observe skill could detect nothing about him. No skills, no stats, no emotion, no specialization, no backstory, he didn't even have a heart rate or any soul that I could detect.

"I bet you've got questions." He said casually, overlooking the beautiful vista below. I carefully reined my emotions in and replied with a little courtesy, a little sympathy, and some taste.

"You're right, I do. I get the feeling you won't answer them."

"Not any big ones." He replied. I then got the strong feeling this was going to be a frustrating conversation.

"Alright." I demurred - as if I had a choice - and began asking the Twenty Great Discoveries. Or at least I'll call them that for now. Can't call them 20 Questions with something that amounts to a god.

"Why is my life a video game?" Best to start with the nice and simple.

"Unaskable. Question refunded." He said, drinking down his beer and taking out another.

What? Can't even ask the simple questions? Alright, have to be creative...

"What's up with you not having any stats?"

"Because if I have stats, then you can kill me. And I don't want that." He gestured to himself, a sort of a shrug with both hands in the air. "However near impossible I would make it, it still would be possible. Besides, I like this body. Just got done fixing it. Go wreck someone else's."

Seems like the 'Almighty Janitor' was a self-centered one. Oh well, you get that type. Can't do much about that. Looking over the man properly, he seemed like a proud and crass if honest sort. The grease-on-fist kind of rough integrity you could find from a mechanic working late at night to feed his wife and kids. Broad where I was kind of tall, and generally dirty. On his face were lines, on his hands was grime, on his skin were tiny marks and cuts.

"What was that weird-"

"I know exactly what you mean." He said, interrupting me. Rude, but I listened anyway.

"That there was a glitch. You're in a video game, glitches happen. I fix them. Kapishe?"

I didn't like it much, but it was understandable. There was just too much this guy wasn't telling me.

Next question. "What are the limits of what I can do in this game?"

"Anything which does not cause a glitch. Therefore, with the right amount of time and resources, and with some kind of intelligent design, you probably could do just about anything." He said. Another bottle empty.

Sensible. I had to wonder on two patterns of thought now - what do I absolutely want answering, and whether or not that question would be too much to ask.

Wait.

"Why can't I ask you certain questions?"

"Because I'm not going to hand over everything on a silver platter. What are you, a welfare baby?"

That wasn't enough... "Knowledge of the outcomes of possible events will alter my actions, and thus the future will be altered?"

"Close." He gave me a grudging look of approval. Probably the most I'll ever get out of him. "Knowledge of a given quest-related factor will cause more glitches, as bearing said knowledge ties in to the acquisition of quests. I'm trying to keep everything running here!"

Okay, that got a smile. I'll play his game. Literally. But the time dragged on. Eventually, the mood - mine, anyway - turned somber.

"Why?" I asked.

He turned to me. "Why what?"

"Why all of this?" I gestured around. "Why are we here? What is our purpose?"

He lit a cigarette with a hinged-top lighter. Drawing breath, he looked me in the eye. I'll tell you here and now, I swear I can't tell the difference between him and a regular person. Makes sense as he literally made everything, so of course he would know the rules and happenings of the world, but hey. I wonder what his Disguise will be if he applied a stat to it.

"There are two answers I can give to that question. One will be for you and your world, the other will be for me. Which one do you pick?"

God. Worst offer ever. I can't help but pick both. My healthy levels of paranoia told me he'd only be generous this one time.

I solved it in the best of ways. I took out a coin and flipped it.

Heads. "Me."

He looked down at the one-Lien coin before sighing, and sitting down on a chair that hadn't been there before. Impossible as that was, I sat down too on my own.

"This world is the latest. The leading point of the shield against which the acid strikes, so to speak. Those things." the Almighty Janitor pointed, and suddenly the lush grasslands were stuffed to the brim with Grimm of all kinds, Nevermores circling above and unless my eyesight was failing, numrous Goliaths in the distance backing them up.

"BUT-" he screamed over the noise of the horde. A roar and a wave of heat and light later, and they were gone. Dust in the wind. Not actual Dust, but still general grime and such. I was in still minor shock, but now in equal parts minor awe.

"But you wouldn't think much of it, would you? Been there as far back as you know it." he said, emptying another bottle down his throat and taking out another.

"Grimm, you call them. Right? Yes, them. They... are not what you think. What are they to you, might I ask?" he queried, in a suprising turn of politeness.

I kind of settled into disapproval. Grimm? To me? Born into a Hunter family, jacked up to near mythic levels by this man's functioning, had Dad wiped out and mom made a cripple, am currently looking for ways to bring true and total death to Conquest and the big boss behind the Grimm?

"Things to... remove." I kept succinct in my choice of words.

I swear then, the Janitor laughed. Openly laughed.

"Nice and simple, ey? No fancy business." He said, knocking me on the shoulder.

Really starting to not like this guy. Nothing open or hostile yet, but something just rubs me the wrong way.

He quietened down, though, and looked out over the vista.

"Entropy is a phenomenon that happens with all things. On a quantum level, and on a physical one. Entropy is the total and absolute loss of energy and substance, whereas before energy can never be truly lost, only converted into a single form."

"Entropy is the loss of order. In thermodynamics, it's the catch-all for randomness within a system." I interrupted HIM for once.

"Not this kind. Damn, should have clarified. Existential. This is Existential entropy." Cleared things up a little, at least.

"The Grimm are the physical manifestations of Entropy within this creation." he summed it up.

And it might just have been me, but at that point things seemed hopeless. The very entropy of existence itself? How were we supposed to fight against that? A crushing, ineroxable force against a bunch of swords, people and comparatively quantum levels of Aura? I tried to voice my expression, but evidently I'm more expressive than I thought, because he caught the point right away.

"You can succeed against it because it's physical. It's present, it exists in a convenient form for you. What you forget, Gamer, is that what exists within nature follows the laws of nature. They live. They can be killed."

"Their numbers are literally endless!" I couldn't stop myself from shouting. "The probability of our success is absolute zero!"

He sneered in disgust. I swear, I feel like punching this guy.

"When you say that, you forget the theorem of expected value. How high is the price of your life?" he asked me. Before I could answer, he asked again; "How high is the price of that which you love?"

"When you say the probability of success is absolute zero, you forget that when price is of infinite size, probability has no meaning."

He was rude about it. But in the end, what he was saying was that it came down to me and my not wanting to die. And everyone's. That's why we fought to survive instead of rolling over and letting the Grimm eat us alive. I looked back - the Pandora Shell, the Goliath, the fight against Penny. Many, many more. In every one, it came down to me not wanting to lose.

And the Janitor must have picked up on my thoughts, because he raised his bottle and toasted me.

I didn't ask any more questions. I sort of got the message anyway. The Grimm were around, humanity (and faunuskind, too) were also around, and it was evident only one of either of us could survive.

One more question popped into my head.

"So, what now?"

The Janitor shrugged. "You go back, I guess."

"And keep fighting?"

"Do you want something else?"

... Looking over it all, I couldn't find it in myself to argue.

"Any changes going to be made?" I asked.

"If anything big comes up I'll notify you."

I... was honestly more than a little shocked. Just like that, things are going to continue as normal? Or at least as close to normal as my life could pass?

"I haven't failed somehow?"

"Nope. Keep up the good work." he said, nodding with closed eyes to me. He acquired a brimmed hat from somewhere which augmented the move.

And the world started again, and I found myself back on the street, heading over to Junior's club to heal up the wounded.

* * *

Post location: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-four.311394/page-1339#post-16300638


	2. Chapter 2

**The original work which these are based on may be found on Spacebattles. Search for "The Games We Play" by the one and only Ryuugi. His icon is a red-backed Darth Vader looking to choke you. Fittingly, the caption of it is 'Who's your Daddy?'**

 **To clarify - these are my omakes for another story. They can be counted as a mini-series in terms of length, but the original premise behind them is not mine. Credit to Ryuugi for the setting; to me goes simple skill in putting something together that doesn't look too bad.**

 **The latest thread's index may be found here: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/**

 **At the time of writing, it was up to the 160th page.**

 **Thank you for your time. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **The Games We Play - Game Moderator series**  
 **Private Messaging**

Have you ever wonder'd of the strength in your own arm? Ever dialled your hearing down to subsonic levels and heard the roar of blood filling muscle and sinew pushing the body? The air in your lungs a miasma of chemicals, the synapses in your brain a collection of nerves.

Imagine knowing it all. Knowing the patterns of life, the specific combinations of primordial ooze which will give shape to sapient life-forms after evolution had taken its course. Imagine knowing precisely how to direct matter on a cosmic scale, knowing the outcome epochs before the events unfolded.

This may be used as an accurate comparison, then, for the Game Moderator's outlook on life. Or so one may suppose.

He knew the patterns, the events, the possibilities. In him was held the knowledge of life and death. Precisely, then, why the Gamer was calling a certain number on a hidden speed-dial.

Were a being other than the Gamer calling, they'd be redirected to a pizza parlor in northeast Vacuo. A good one, too. But the point would be that they would be redirected. Not by any machine or signal, but instead by reality itself. The number was, in fact, actually for the aforedescribed place. It was merely an exploit in reality that if the Gamer - and specifically the mentioned being - were to dial that number with the intention of contacting the Game Moderator, then by a stabilized backdoor through quantum reality he wound indeed end up contacting the Game Moderator.

All that was left was waiting for the Janitor to pick up the damn phone.

He had sorted out a few things for the day. Nothing could be done until the morning, save for his elementals unleashing something approaching full-scale war against the Grimm in the Naraka dimension, with Ozpin watching on.

Jaune himself was outside the dimension, still in the headmaster's office. For the purposes of keeping others not caring, he was supposedly being coached in a junior Teachers' course. Or that was what had been told and listed, at least. Either way, the outcome was the same.

By the demons above and below, he was bored.

He'd fallen into the routine of being constantly busy, of continually having something to do or to occupy himself. Gou and Autumn were in Naraka too, finishing off whatever Grimm his Elementals hadn't managed to tear to pieces already.

He figured what better thing to do than to gain newer insight into the massive mechanics by which he lived and grew in power?

Hence the current situation.

Finally, the infuriating Janitor answered. The first thing Jaune heard was retching, and something wet and chunky splattering against a thin metal surface. The disturbing part was that he could smell the bile and all the contents, too, and the sound emnated not from the scroll he held, but off the walls surrounding him as though it was an echo.

"What?" came the brunt greeting of the Almighty Janitor. Though the retching receded, and faded.

Jaune took a breath.

And that's where the argument started...

.-x-.

"Again? Fine." Jaune's request had been simple - a further description of just how things worked. The unspoken (though earlier mutually affirmed; text messaging is a wonderful thing) agreement went that the Janitor would not divulge quest-triggering information, and Jaune likewise would not ask why certain things were not kept, and neither would the Gamer request help.

"I've told you about the general principles. Entropy, Existence, physical manifestations, yah?" Let it not be said he was one for the language and mannerisms of the polite society, or indeed any manners at all.

"Entropy happens to all Creation, regardless of whether or not it Exists. The Grimm are the physical manifestations of Entropy in your world. The reason they seem like they do not have souls or intelligence is because they are not of this Creation, y'see?"

"Hold on-" Jaune interrupted. "WHAT?"

"Let me finish, you dumb sack of shit. Now-"

Take a deep breath. Count to ten while doing so. Pissing off a god is an idea. Not a good idea, but still only an idea. Not a plan to be executed. Pantheocide is the number one no-no, right above smoking the big bad book of evil juju.

"You mortals were born in this Creation. This means you - all of you, across all forms and planes of Existence - are truly and totally in synch with this Creation. This is why you can channel your souls and exploit reality to the extent that you do. Whatchacallem... Semblances, right? Yeah, those. They are the true, literal manifestations of your synchrosity with this Creation."

"Wait, isn't it our souls?" Jaune asked.

"No you dense bitch, your souls and physical forms exist on completely different aspects of Existence. If you brought 'em together, Oh My God." He emphasized the last three words in the underhand twang of a petite Eastern woman.

In the background, Jaune could hear a dog's panting and something very, very big breathing. He elected to be silent and carry on listening.

"Your Semblances are just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. Anything you can think of, you can do. It's just dictated by equal parts genetics, soul strengths and quantum fluctuations that some things might be easier for whatever kinds of people."

There was a small silence.

"We are literally gods in the machine." Jaune eventually spoke, in awe.

"You know it, babyface." the Janitor said, sounding distracted. Sound warbled meaninglessly for a moment, before the large thing which was breathing before moved with a roar, followed by noises of bloody dismemberment.

"Just WHAT are you doing over there?" Jaune queried, loudly, in chagrin and worry.

"Ever tried to reprogram a coffee machine by sticking your tongue into a chainsaw made of blenders, while tutu-wearing hula girls wearing red hot iron-shod boots are dancing on your testicles and nipples alike?" the Janitor asked.

Jaune was silent.

"Thought so. That's the alternative way of fixing this particular glitch. Don't worry about it."

Solid advice. Jaune decided to ignore the weird happenings and continue. Kind of like the average civilian mindset.

"Back to the subject, please." Jaune almost begged. "We... we are fighting Entropy itself?"

"Yep. Anything in particular about that, or can I go back to giving my kittens full Vacuon waxings?"

Jaune cringed at the mental image and just asked his question.

"So, how does this work? You mentioned Creations in the plural."

He didn't say anything for a small moment, but Jaune received the strange feeling that his conversational partner shrugged. "Creations stretch across planes of existence. Creations Exist. Therefore, against Inexistence they erode. Entropy is the result."

"Inexistence?"

A sigh.

"I'll tell it all to you from the very beginning."

And Jaune perked up and listened.

.-x-.

"In the beginning, there was Nothing. Then, there was Something. Something was eroded by the Nothing. Something was broken, and those pieces formed the First Creation."

"Something gained sentience, and knowledge, and tactics and planning. Something made more Creations. The Something eventually became an endless series of Creations."

"Infinity creations and many infinities of Life. There is literally no chance of all of Creation will be wiped away."

"Wait, what?" Jaune interrupted. "If Nothing is constantly eroding away all the Creations, then eventually Creation will be worn away, right?"

He could practically feel the Janitor's hate for interrupting him flowing through the link. But it was a valid question still, or so it must have seemed to the Moderator, because it was answered.

"Beings gain power. Past a certain threshold, they may ascend past death into a state of being between Creations. There they are free to fight the Entropy by any means possible."

"So, you're from somewhere." Jaune speculated. Too sharp a route to take, apparently, as the Janitor ceased his description.

The resultant silence was nearly oppressive.

"Yes."

You could have dropped a Goliath on him, and Jaune would still not have noticed at that point in time, so stunned was he.

"Now, I have to go. Oh by the way, take this. I forgot to give it to you the other day."

Something hit him. Something intensely uplifting.

"Now that's done..." Something else hit him, of the solid and dense variety. To the head.

The Gamer immediately blacked out.

.-x-.

"Jaune! Wake up!" Ozpin's on-edge voice reached him, as did the feeling of him beings shaken awake. The near impossibility of the headmaster being unsettled by anything escaped him, for he was only focusing on the conversation he had.

"I'm up. Did it work?" the newly-awakened Gamer asked.

And here was to be revealed their master plan - bugging a conversation with the Game Moderator. A very, very bad idea to piss off a god it was, they had no other choice but to do so, to gain at least a little insight into the being that all but governed their lives.

Ozpin checked the devce.

The file was clicked... and the message that popped up read 'Data corrupted'.

The groan was mutual, though audialized only by the younger of them.

"Well, these things do happen." Ozpin said. He then reached for his mug, to find it oddly light.

The older man looked down, and found it emptied, coffee drunk. Inside was a neon pink note, rolled up into a tiny scroll. The note was taken out and unrolled.

Very simply, it read:

Stop trying to peek.

The two were dismayed. Seems like even that which may as well count as a god was against them. Until Jaune read his newest alert.

You have received the status effect "The Chosen One".  
The bearer of this status effect gains access to beta testing mode. May only be given or removed by Game Moderators.

* * *

Post location: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-four.311394/page-1369#post-16331851


	3. Chapter 3

**The original work which these are based on may be found on Spacebattles. Search for "The Games We Play" by the one and only Ryuugi. His icon is a red-backed Darth Vader looking to choke you. Fittingly, the caption of it is 'Who's your Daddy?'**

 **To clarify - these are my omakes for another story. They can be counted as a mini-series in terms of length, but the original premise behind them is not mine. Credit to Ryuugi for the setting; to me goes simple skill in putting something together that doesn't look too bad.**

 **The latest thread's index may be found here: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/**

 **At the time of writing, it was up to the 160th page.**

 **Thank you for your time. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **The Games We Play Omake - Game Moderator series**  
 **The Answer is always Simulators**

I really should've been expecting something weird to happen. The past events concerning this game I was in all but threw reality halfway through a wall and sexually teased it until explicit content happened, so I was preparing for the worst as I messaged the Janitor again. After the usual back-and-forth he agreed to let me try out the beta testing option.

See, I was just wanting to figure out what the hell was going to happen in the time-honed method of scientific discovery; by poking it with something. Under normal circumstances, that would be a very, very bad idea. These circumstances are anything but normal.

Ergo, time to lock and load up the big guns.

I blinked and found myself in a dingy room with a single door, other such accessories in the room being a weathered couch, a threadbare stool, and a desk at which a computer setup stood, where the Janitor was hard and fast at work doing something probably to do with infinite possibilities somewhere in time.

"You're here. Want to head in?" he asked, turning to me. I cranked Observe to full power - blessed it may be at its level 100 - and noticed that he had given himself stats, average ones for a level slightly below mine, though his sheet was still missing the section in which HP lay. There, stood nothing except for the words 'Immortal Object'. Seems like he took no chances.

"Yep. What's all this about?" I asked of him, following through the door. We emerged into an endless expanse of white, only my abilities (and somewhat enhanced bodily functions) telling me which way was up, down, left, right, and that we seemed to be walking on a concrete floor.

The Janitor didn't answer immediately. We actually kept walking for a while before I asked where we were, and where we were going. In responce, he turned to face me. Slowly.

"You mean you... where are we, to you?" Shock on his face, the first real emotion beyond not-giving-a-damn that I'd seen.

I shrugged. Really, I had no idea. I couldn't see any landmarks or features, nothing was showing up to Observe, all my other senses likewise resulted in... nothing. Frankly speaking, it was creepy. At all times and points there are faint biological or mechanical signs like subaudible noise, displacements in air, particles in the air which allowed one to smell something, life-signs of microbacteria. Even the dirt was more populated with bacteria than the world was populated by people. And yet here, there was nothing. Technically speaking this area shouldn't exist.

Gamer's Mind kept me from freaking out. Gamer's Body kept me from dying. The lack of either one of these, I think, would result in my swift blending into the inexistence around us.

"A big white empty space, I guess." I tried to say nonchalantly. I was rewarded with a loud expletive from the Janitor, who promptly took off sprinting, muttering angrily that he had been so focused on one thing he completely forgot to set it all up. I didn't really mind, much, until the sound of a loud door slamming reached my ears. Two thoughts then occurred - that either there indeed was air in this place, at the very least, and that I wouldn't die immediately, at least.

That was when things started changing.

I guess this is how a god feels, watching the world be born one thing at a time. I saw grass around a hummingbird's beak, the animal emitting a surprisingly lively tweet as the rest of it popped into existence. Or flowed, rather. What terminology do I use to describe watching something just... appear? Like it had always been in existence, just that I was able to see every feather, every piece of sinew, every bone and every muscle, every cell within the bird's tiny eyes just appear into existence, in a wave, like a cloak of nothingness being removed from it so that I could conceive its presence?

I held my hand up, finger outward. The hummingbird promptly took to flight, zipping over to roost on me. I couldn't help smiling - the little guy looked ready to start building a nest. As the above gained depth, and height, and colour my feathery friend took off into the ever-growing expanse of blue. Green and gray around me to become rocks, grassy fields, a cement court and a small forest to the side of us.

My head tasted sideways as reality briefly burgeoned under the weight of reconstitution. Spirals defined the non-emotional void that formed between the rocks and the sky. Life spiralled out from a single point which sucked away my Mana even without removing a single point. That point became a tree, which became a rock and a cheese sandwitch.

The scene changed significantly. A beach with dark sand made itself manifest under my feet. My bare toes didn't feel the heat that I sensed under there; an excessive amount of iron washed out from inland volcanoes washed back onto the shores of this beach meant that iron was everywhere. Crocea Mors thrummed throughout it all, letting me know exactly where the best iron compounds were. I might make a seat, here.

In the distance, a man with white spiked hair, tan skin and slanted features waved at me. I waved back, feeling with strange foreboding.

"Goodbye." the Janitor muttered, next to me again and also waving farewell to the man in the distance. "Thanks for everything, Monty."

"Who?" I asked, facing him.

"Nothing - or at least nobody you need to know about. He's done more than you'd think."

I elected to remain silent, looking back. The man in the distance was gone, though through my Elementals I sensed that he had stepped on the water and walked off into clouds.

"Now." the Game Moderator said, garnering my attention once more. "This bit's going to get more than a little tricky, so I need you to sit down and listen. Yes, I'll explain everything."

"So, this is all one huge simulation. Of a new life, a new universe, a new everything." I summed up past his rude, terse way of telling things.

"Yep. Beta testing isn't sorting out shit in your own world - you can do that anytime in-game. I've ordered everything to be paused while you do this, because if I didn't you wouldn't technically exist in your world and Creation."

"So-"

"So your skinny ass will sit down and shut up while I'm explaining things." This old argument of interruption. Breathe, Arc, count to ten.

"Now. I'm not testing out what you can do, I'm testing out the bounds and laws of this new reality. Before I well and truly the tank full of the essence of life and existence, y'see? All this here-" he waved around. "Is a simulation. A test to find out the capabilities of something that exists within these laws of existence, within this new Creation."

"What do I do?" I asked.

That must have been the one interruption he will tolerate, because the half-smile of a sneaky bastard crept up on his face. Just for about an instant. Well, realistically speaking it was for 2.0341 seconds, but I'm trying to convey a little emphasis onto the action here. That argument goes to redundancy and recursion, though, so let's move onward. The Janitor looked somber, now.

"You see Gamer, without Gamer's Mind you would be right fucked up." Clear, plain and simple.

"It transforms most hostile actions into status effects. This is because I've technically removed you from your existence as a living being. You've got your own laws, your own order, your own centralized and specialized place within your existence."

That... is a heavy shot of morale, I must say.

"It does not go against the natural workings of the human mind, though. It regulates that, diminishes excessive emotions, but it does not completely remove them."

That makes sense... kind of.

"Without it, you would be a shellshocked nutcase."

And this is the point where things seemed crazy. Far crazier than how things were to begin with, I mean.

"You're pining. You're hurt. You're fucked up bad, son." he said with a distinctive Vacuon twang. "So I got you a little fix-me-up."

I looked where the Janitor then pointed, and I swear my heart gave such a massive thud that I swear I died for a second. Because I saw a man I thought dead return.

Slowly walking shoreward over the water with the sun behind his back was Jacques Arc.

"Creation expects that every man will do his duty." the Janitor said simply, filling my and Dad's minds with information. Of the enemy and their locations, of our available communications arrays and of our environment even before the shroud of unseeing was lifted from it. We moved to the first cannon, a six-railed Bear Organ, and began to load it up.

I was in charge of all the minor details - cannon position and angle of attack, load and weight distribution. Dad was... well. From the implanted information, I knew that the Janitor thought that bombs and artillery shells weren't that different in purpose. They were simply propelled. Thrown a long way. This was the area which Dad would occupy - the design, calibre, loading, calibration, specifications and instant production of the shells.

We worked in near silence. Neither of us could figure out what to say.

The first shell, a 7.5-inch rocket-propelled incendiary, was loaded up, aimed and fired. I knew the outcome even before the projectile reached the apex - a direct hit on a small hill loaded with Anomalies. I had deigned to call them that because they were in the Janitor's words, 'things that should not be'. And he must have been closer to human than I thought, because what he told us was that we are going to shoot the living shit out of them. Our battery commander in HQ 7, zeroed be thy aim, thy co-ordinates come, your targets done for in earth as they are in heaven. Give to us our daily lead. Amen.

Whatever was going on, it was getting results. From what I heard, the Janitor was unwinding and re-stringing together the very fabric of the universe as we shot it apart. Terrific.

Eventually the foghorn to cease fire sounded, and I checked the targets over the binoculars as Dad worked to cool down the gun.

Bad idea. That was a BAD idea. Slivers and swirls of unreality danced in my eyes even as something plucked them out one by one. When all was said and done, we got back to it.

For four more silent barrages we kept up the attack, twice completely switching cannons whenever the one we were firing either exploded or overheated, or both. It was on a pure Dust-slinging Gateway that the final signal to stop, three short toots of the foghorn.

The Janitor informed us that was the end of this simulation. He pointed out the exit, a door standing freely on the beach, and then he was gone.

I noted that he didn't say we couldn't stay for a little while.

Me and Dad took a walk.

* * *

Post location: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-four.311394/page-1421#post-16395840


	4. Chapter 4

**The original work which these are based on may be found on Spacebattles. Search for "The Games We Play" by the one and only Ryuugi. His icon is a red-backed Darth Vader looking to choke you. Fittingly, the caption of it is 'Who's your Daddy?'**

 **To clarify - these are my omakes for another story. They can be counted as a mini-series in terms of length, but the original premise behind them is not mine. Credit to Ryuugi for the setting; to me goes simple skill in putting something together that doesn't look too bad.**

 **The latest thread's index may be found here: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/**

 **At the time of writing, it was up to the 160th page.**

 **Thank you for your time. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **The Games We Play Omake - Game Moderator series  
Oh Boy, Here We Go **

It's been four minutes since I began trying to quantify the human spirit.

The core, base drive which moves us all forward. Motivation, Inspiration. Hope. Ambition. Just concepts and fairy stories, one might think. But having given more thought to it, I realized that they're real, manipulatable things.

Thing was, I was doing this all manually. The videogame that was my life wasn't helping me out in this endeavour.

Naturally, this raises a few warning signs. I'm messing with reality and causality as we know it here, namely, beyond the limit which the videogame was capable of helping. I determined, citing my previous experiences in life, that while the videogame streamlines a whole lot for me - I only need to look at Bai Hu, and the White Tiger style in general, as well as my decently high Craft skill - this would be pushing past the limit of its capability.

The Almighty Janitor, the Game Moderator, the guy who would be all but a god to me, mentioned higher dimensions. Naturally, there must be one for souls, thoughts and emotions.

Point being I needed to acquire this. The Riders, the Grimm, all of this were manifestations of Entropy, par the word of the Janitor. To be honest, I'm a little bit rattled. And it seems Gamer's Mind doesn't defend against this level of apocalyptic. Thus, if it was this bad for me then for everyone else it must be a nightmare to deal with. Thing is, I can't see how else I can do it other than by figuring out how people react to the usual level of insanity we dealt with.

I needed to figure out how people worked. I needed an intimate understanding of people and their ways.

Ozpin, Raven, Grandma, General Ironwood - the likes of them were the movers and the shakers of the world. But I wonder, exactly what makes them tick? Simple extrapolation of human relationships aside, how is it that they operated? How did we all go about things? Emotions tied to gain and loss and change.

The way things were heading, we would get quickly into areas not imaginable. It's likely that many won't be able to handle it. They'd panic, and make wrong decisions. I need to know what thoughts they might think. What hopes, what desires, what do people yearn for.

I've got a sneaking feeling that looking at all that, whose hopes and dreams we encompass, we might not be so different after all.

 **You are creating a new skill.**

Oh, it looks like the game's helping me after all.

 **What would you like to name it?**

I sat down on a wooden crate of old photos and thought. Really, I've got no basis for naming it, or even any idea what I would like it to be. The term soul-searching came to mind, because really, I was looking for something beyond all of this. Something to do with the aforementioned higher dimension. Higher guidance of some sort. That would be nice, but really what I'm looking to do is create something which gave me awareness of the internal workings of other peoples' souls. My Empathy skill can only do so much, after all, looking in from an outsider's perspective. I needed more. The first-person perspective, so to speak.

"Enkindle." I decided on. That reminded me, I have to ask the Janitor whether or not I can have skills renamed.

Nothing seemed to jump to mind as to what I should do. I tried something similar to the summoning contracts I had for my elementals, but it didn't quite work. It was missing something.

I charged up my Aureole skill to using a whole million MP per second, cast forth my second soul, and tried again. Promptly, the sensation of every single nerve, node and point in my body, brain and soul started feeling like it was being electrified and on fire at the same time.

.-x-.

The concept was simple. Make a skill which feeds into the higher dimension of emotions and souls.

A ritual or a skill which directly affected a higher dimension would need to go around the laws of physical reality - directly shifting through the limits of potency and thought and around the tangles of causality, through four loops of reality and seventeen degrees to the impossible. The Mathematician's Answer told me that such a thing made use of fifteen unknown variables and three imaginary ones.

I felt one small point, if anything. The tip of a finger that glowed like the flame of a candle. It melted sideways and down, tracing down violent kinks in its path as it traced a single line following random points about the nervous system of an arm. Its glow rippled, and connected with the glow of other points. Eventually, I saw that I could sense the patterns that small point of light followed.

The point converged, and melded, and slowly took shape. It hummed like a string in the wind, resounding with its own tune and pattern which interacted with all the stars.

And then the voices came.

At first it was just a few. The weak, the timid, the quiet. A child's babble as it played in a brightly colored room. A dog's ready, loud bark as it chased a stick thrown by its master. A content drunk chugging down another brew, wondering whether he could go relieve himself before the game started.

Then the lens of my vision focused - so to speak - and the more prominent thoughts started rushing in. A schoolteacher prioritizing projects, being proud of successful students and harsh on the lazy troublemakers. Said students under the pressure of their classroom and of success, some striving to work while most were bored out of their mind. The knowledgeable flow of a relaxed technician's mind, slowly putting together how to fix a broken alarm.

Then it was as if I grew more points of light, and my candle flame was overwhelmed by the cacaphonies of the loud and the important. A Hunter balancing life and death, a surgeon comparing procedures and experience telling him that making an incision around the infected area would make a greater risk than cauterizing it beforehand would. A therapist listening to a broken survivor of a gang incident, determining from their pattern of thought - though that was compared to their manner of speech - that they had acquired post-traumatic stress disorder.

I saw the byzantine patterns of life, all laid out before me in that realm beyond.

I ended the ability, and stood up. It was quite the shock to see someone else with me.

To anyone else it may have been Jian Bing standing with them.

To me, it was terrifying.

.-x-.

The being crossed its arms, the mask on its face tilting downward minutely. I was stunned, to be frank about the matter. Something big was happening, and I didn't know what. I tried to take a breath and step backward, only to find that I was unable to move my body.

To be accurate, the reason it was terrifying was not because of simple danger. I was fairly certain I would find a way to beat myself, if the worst came to the worst. But what really put the fear of God into me was the fact that I wasn't technically seeing him.

Clairvoyance and Extrasensory Perception should have been enough to see everything on him, from the microbes on his skin to the individual molecules composing his chin. Thing was, though, that neither of those abilities returned anything occupying the space where I saw him standing.

The being that looked like my alias stepped forward. Observe returned nothing. Empathy didn't get anything. Feedback from the my new Enkindle skill was the sole and singular skill which gave me any information.

The being that shared a resemblance to my alias was me.

Well, with a few differences. Chief point being that I was me, not this person in front of me. Also, unless I was severely mistaken he was a little bit taller, and skinnier than I was.

Empathy finally registered something - the being was going through my memories. Except I could feel it too. A silent watcher like a cold light falling on a sphere, panning over every minute detail.

Except now there were things being filled in, fleshed out. I knew how everyone else felt, now. I could feel their emotions as readily as I knew my own. Adam's unimpressed patience early on behind the White Whale heist, Weiss's potent mixture of fear and hate, Ozpin's cool, collected resolve as he could watch me like the CEO of a vast company watching a particularly driven employee. The dutiful, taskmaster-esque drive to help - and quiet pride - of Grandma. The awe and respect of every White Fang member, each one seeing me as something akin to the actual Jian Bing, someone more like a character out of the stories they grew up with.

I looked at the being more closely. It wasn't me, I determined now that I took the time to pay attention to details. It certainly resembled myself as Jian Bing to a tee, and certainly the being itself could pass as me at a glance, but there were minute differences here and there. Its posture was more like a lean animal holding its position rather than a regular person's slouch. It was tense along its entire frame like it was awaiting an attack or a predator sneaking up behind. It looked different to me, too - the eyes too wide, the ultraviolet and infared signatures slightly off, hair just not quite the same as mine. Maybe a little dirtier. Mangier. 'Untamed' came to mind.

And then it spoke, fully and truly confirming that this being was not me.

"I am you."

Although, it wasn't even speaking - more like forming the individual sounds the words consisted of. Every person had a unique cadence or tone, twistings of accent and patterns of speech. This being's vocalizations was more akin to one of those dogs whose owners taught them to speak. Not like Gou, but the regular dogs. You could probably find a video or two on Yootoob.

"No." I said. "I am Me. Not you."

"What am I?" the thing asked - quickly growing a pattern to its speech. This thing learned quickly.

I... honestly thought. What was this thing? A reflection of myself? Pure emotion, minus manners, upbringing and general sense?

And then the second wave of trippy visions hit.

.-x-.

By the time that ordeal was over, I woke up lying on the floor.

The sound of a low-capacity engine starting up reached my senses, and I got up looking at the source. Turned out to be a familiar face, with a new title.

 **"On A Forklift He Rides"**  
 **The Almighty Janitor**  
 **Game Moderator**

The contraption in question was new. Rusty in various parts on the cover, and yellow paint faded and flaking away, but the mechanisms and lifter systems were spotless from what I can see. And for whatever reason, a baby's dummy was attached to the bar-mesh roof of the cabin.

 **Celestial Forklift**  
 **Level 98 Mythic Vehicle**  
 **+4 to Charisma**  
 **+12 to Dexterity**  
 **+5 to Intelligence**  
 **+9,942 to Forklift Operation**  
 **+22 to Animal Housing (Spider)**  
 **+14 to Animal Housing (Small Insect)**  
 **+442 to Terrain Handling**  
 **Ability Unlock: Load Handling (Mythic, Active)**

And the stats on the thing were near ludicurous. It also implied that Forklift Operation was a learnable and levelable skill. As was Charisma a stat. Likewise, it wasn't within the general pattern of skills - fixed values instead of percentage increases. A sneaking suspicion, or perhaps rampant sentimentalism, told me it was a relic from a long-gone and more elegant age.

"What is that thing you're riding?" I asked him, right away, as I sat up rubbing my head.

"A forklift, dumbass." the guy that ruled my life responded.

"That I can see. But why?"

"Because I need to lift things. Sit on the rakes."

I honestly felt no such inclination. That did not seem safe. But he was giving an insistent stare, so I walked over and sat down on the right fork as soon as he lifted it up high enough. Promptly, he took off at speed again.

"I pulled you out of your reality for a bit. Need to speak to you on the dimension-manipulation thing.""

"Enkindle? What about it?" I asked. Despite the noise of the gas engine, we heard one another perfectly well.

"Yeah, that. Look, that is messing in one of the higher dimensions. One of the more sensitive ones, might I add. I have no idea how to say this in a way for your wishy-washy and polite high-born lifestyle, so I'll come clean."

The Game Moderator stopped the forklift and made a very strange face at me. Something between mirth, pity, sadism, mild lust, disbelief and respect.

"I sure hope you don't do this."

This ought to be the biggest indication that what I did was a bad thing. He had a smile on his face.

"So... should I stop?" I asked of him.

"Oh no. By all means, go ahead." Sarcasm abound.

Or was it? Something seemed off. Empathy told me- no, wait. Can't afford to rely on systems of his devising to get information on him. Might be compromised at the very least. Still, the way he leant just a little to the side in the seat of the forklift told me there was more to it than what was immediately obvious.

"Alright. When do I get back?" I decided to call his bluff.

"Oh, you still doing this? You get back right now." he told me.

Lo and behold, when I blinked time had restarted and I was back in the basement.

My companion was leaning against a wall, arms crossed. Clad in the Dreary Midnight and Nevermore mask I'd worn in my earlier times as Jian Bing, the effects of the abilities oddly absent. Likewise were his thoughts, life-signs and extrasensory signatures. By definition, that made the being a hallucination.

It was standing with more purpose, more of a pattern now. A relaxed pose which I could probably find in a Vacuon, or maybe southern Mistral. It certainly wasn't an animal anymore.

"That went well." It commented, to my mild shock.

Turns out it must be able to go through my memories.

"Partially incorrect. That and more - I can see your thoughts forming."

I refrained from going down that particular line of thought, and just brought up my new ability's skill box to read through it for any clues as to what it might do.

 **Enkindle (Passive) LV1 EXP: 0.04%**  
 **From entangling a manifestation of themselves beyond their own soul within the dimension of emotions and thoughts, the user has acquired an intimate understanding of the connections and patterns within peoples' thinking and mentality, granting total comprehension of others within the games we play.**  
 **2% increase to INT in non-combat interactions and checks.**  
 **3% increase to WIS in non-combat interactions and checks.**  
 **20% increase to Inspire effects. (Non-stackable)**  
 **15% increase to Leadership effects. (Non-stackable)**  
 **Allows mental information gained from Observe to count as sensory input.**

That... was absolutely broken. The first two effects improved by level, I deduced, though the ad-hoc signs that Inspire and Leadership were also levelable skills, or perhaps traits, were really the things which caught my attention.

So engrossed was I that I apparently hadn't noticed the being that resembled myself had straightened up and stepped forward.

For a while, nothing was said. I noted that the being was taller, broader than myself. More gaunt, too, if I could put a word on the term.

"You made me, and used me for evil." It spoke - not in the monotone noises that it had before, but now with a sonorous, ineroxable tone I'd really rather have expected from an ancient veteran of a war. I got the feeling that this being's moral code was a whole lot more defined than most.

"It was necessary." I replied.

I could feel things starting to happen - like power running along circuits, or nervous signals along a system. Something was happening in that higher dimension, and I could sense it through this being, and my new ability.

"You bear remorse?"

"Had there been other options, I would have taken them." I stated. The feeling intensified - more and more sparks and patterns formed and flowed.

"You seek to make all well?" Its last question. How I knew that, I can't really say.

"Should it be possible." I replied in kind.

"Then it is done." it said, the sparks beyond my phsyical senses growing into a surge. "I am Jian Bing. I will be always at your side; you will never stand alone."

There was a great flash, a feeling like I was hit with a thunderbolt in my soul. The next instant, all was calm and well.

I could feel small, iridescent ticks far-off in the distance. Ticks like a car cooling down after extensive use. Further examination told me that they were emotions - calm and tiredness, mostly. They were my sisters' thoughts, calm in the distance.

I set off up the stairs, thoroughly wishing to start making sense of this whole ordeal.

But somehow, I felt just a single warm touch on my soul.

Things might turn out alright after all.

* * *

Post location: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-four.311394/page-1580#post-16584342


	5. Chapter 5

**The original work which these are based on may be found on Spacebattles. Search for "The Games We Play" by the one and only Ryuugi. His icon is a red-backed Darth Vader looking to choke you. Fittingly, the caption of it is 'Who's your Daddy?'**

 **To clarify - these are my omakes for another story. They can be counted as a mini-series in terms of length, but the original premise behind them is not mine. Credit to Ryuugi for the setting; to me goes simple skill in putting something together that doesn't look too bad.**

 **The latest thread's index may be found here: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/**

 **At the time of writing, it was up to the 160th page.**

 **Thank you for your time. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **The Games We Play Omake - Game Moderator Mini-series**  
 **Where Narcissism is a Good Thing**

In the world of Hunters, the abnormal and freakish almost becomes boring. In the world of Gamer Hunters, said almost-boring isn't good enough and needs to be grinded and levelled up until it can one-shot a Deathstalker.

This being said, the series of events which lead to six different versions of Jaune Arc having a nice lunch at a nondescript table somewhere at the sunny side of Haven were a bit much, even by the sanity-is-optional standards of the Hunter world's elite. All that will be said is that it involved the absolute impossibility which a trade-certified can of whoop-ass and raw Entropy can provide when cracked open and chucked into a node which bridges various quantum thingamajigs in the space-time continuum.

Quoth the Game Moderator, "Whoopsie..."

One small furry creature from Alpha Centauri's fart later, they were all convened and pleasantly making riveting arguments, with consitent theories and valid points about why the others were stupid.

After many giggles of both the puerile and .50 calibre man-size varieties were had, they all agreed to let their poor sides rest. Hence why they are currently having a nice lunch. In the midst of which the Jaune Arc who had spec'd himself along a Wisdom and Intelligence-centered build slated to rapidly heal and regenerate mana and dominate the battlefield through technique took a glimpse at his contemporaries. The Moderator being the tricky, prickly, unreasonable and glorious bastard that he was, made the Observe ability's usual rank/level/skill differentiation algorithm be completely removed if one were to look at themselves. He also said that this counted towards versions of yourself from other dimensions.

Funny how convenient things turn out, now, as seeing the list of their titles itself led me through an abridged version of their history.

 **Local Strongman, Muscle Wizard, Hercules' Bigger Cousin, He Who Lifts not Weight but Spirits, Ferrum Titanis, He the Apotheosied**  
 **Level 112**  
 **Jaune Arc**

First up being the strength-based version. The level and titles were somewhat deceiving of true power, however, as the man admitted - if you could even call a nine-foot wall of nearly divine flesh and metal something as underwhelming as 'man' - he had been blindsided, tossed about and generally rough-housed by his enemies for focusing near entirely on a strength-based build. Despite a jaw-dropping Strength score of over nine thousand, the rest of the Strength-based Jaune Arc's abilities didn't offer much in the way of versatility, if the truth were to be written, focussing mostly on how to channel strength - or raw physical energy, in other words - into other forms.

 **Your Butler, Sky Walker, Void Master, Locus of Motion, He for Whom Physics Bows, Zero-Point of the Universe**  
 **Level 81**  
 **Jaune Arc**

The Dexterity-based Jaune Arc was, at the risk of degrading the term, professional as fuck. It was this one who had made them the pleasant lunch within the space of around a minute or so, even counting the huge woolly mammoth shank which the Strength-Jaune casually gorged upon. With honey mustard sauce, no less. Dexterity at the higher levels, it seemed, moved beyond simply dodging and moving, going all the way to granting abilities which allowed for the outright cheating of the laws of physics, even going so far as to allowing the player to selectively move individual atoms, one at a time. It ought to be noted, though, that the sombre fact was that Dexterity-Jaune possessed Fionn's Semblance as an ability. The event had been an accident, one of the three mistakes in the man's life. Dexterity-Jaune had refused to speak further about the subject.

 **Survivor, Last Man Standing, One in a Million, Hero of Remnant, The Eternal Crusader, For Whom the Bell Tolls**  
 **Level 85**  
 **Jaune Arc**

A Vitality-based Jaune was focused on survival, plain and simple. He had made a catch-phrase for himself which grew to be as famed as he was - "The end times may come, but we will survive." That phrase became apt, for the Jaune Arc which had joined the armies found himself repeatedly in the forsaken free-for-all which was the attempted Reclamation Campaign of the Fallen North continent, and the subsequent Counterattack War of the Grimm which had followed unto the Kingdoms. Every single one of the skills of this stat had built up to make the Vitality-based Jaune Arc become technically the potential end to resource needs everywhere, with the inclusion of a skill which added one small value within the life regeneration algorithm which scaled his health regeneration per second based on the total HP of his party. With the ability to decide what kind of materiel he could grow back beyond simple flesh, that meant that a Grim cutting apart the Vitality-Jaune may have found themselves chewing on a mass of Adamantium. Among other abilities.

 **Prodigy, Powered by Knowledge, Electric Eye, First Senator of the Cybernatica, The Keeper of Secrets, He Who Sculpts Worlds**  
 **Level 100**  
 **Jaune Arc**

The man with more metal lodged in his head than a surviving victim of a nailgun accident, known in lesser circles as the Intelligence-based Jaune, was the one who turned the tide against the Grimm through sheer resources. It should be noted that the large-scale devastation of the Grimm was as simple as turning them against one another. This was achieved through one era-changing thing; nanomachines. In an extrasensory-perceptive mind, one could see millions if not billions of the orderly constructions zipping to and fro about the man's body - both mark of the cyborg's sickness, and the technological prowess which was able to address every single issue which came up in the form of new designs and revolutionary breakthroughs in the sciences. And it was not with a roar, but with the press of a button that the Intelligence-Jaune launched the monumental mission to convert the moon into a fall-back for humankind. It ought to be noted, though, that the advances in space travel and the achievement for permanent, stable, isolated self-sustainablity increased the output of the Kingdoms' factories, mines and farms alike.

 **The Tiger's Child, Elementalist, Grimm Reaper, White Tiger of the West, White Rider, ?**  
 **Level 87**  
 **Jaune Arc**

The Wisdom-centric Jaune Arc which called this dimension home (who, incidentally, was playing host) was slowly lowering in trepidation as his Observe and all his extrasensory perceptions scanned the visitors, simply outclassed the rest of them. Granted, stats and skills might have been higher or greater, but the true strength of a warrior in the scale of a battle is only determined by the tactician which guided him. He was fairly certain he could bring all of these versions of himself down, considering most of their actions were of the hit-the-enemy-until-they-die strategy. Granted, most conflicts were based around that, but the more Wisdom-Jaune perused their histories and memories, sped up by Acceleration, the more and more gaping errors in logic and planning piled up, all of which Wisdom-Jaune very nearly palmed his face at for being so stupid to make, and frankly would feel bad for taking advantage of.

The one thing that actually worried Wisdom-Jaune was the question-marked and unlisted title at the end of his list of six.

And then there was one.

 **Lucky Star, Diamond in the Rough, Ranger with a Big Iron on his hip, The One that Got Away, The First in Infinity**  
 **Level 82**  
 **Jaune Arc**

First off, he arrived late. How rude. The Luck-based Jaune Arc was the swindler, the opportunist and the wriggling, uncatchable worm which threw the proverbial wrench into all plans, all at once. Completely off the Luck stat. The results varied widely, with the worst usage of the bullshittery that was Luck being the achievement of getting a coin to flip to heads instead of tails, meaning that the Luck-Jaune was hit in the head with a wooden bucket rather than having the whole dustbowl's worth of excrement being dumped onto his head, out of the bucket no less. And the greatest result of which being the event which specifically shot one cluster of nerves within a Conquest-inhabited jackrabbit, which in turn made the nerves fuse into a superfluid chemical which in turn let off an Aura-affecting energy wave which ended up frying the majority of the Conquest cells in all of existence, reducing said hive mind to the mental state and sanity of something approaching a Saturday morning cartoon villain.

Even the other Jaune Arcs declared it absolute bullshit.

But whilst funmongering and mockery of one another was all fine and dandy, they still needed to figure out one utterly childish notion which they all had Wisdom enough to know would forge the centric balance within their dynamic.

Who was the best.

.-x-.

The Jaune Arcs - may whatever Gods there may be protect the world if that state of existence escaped the bubble of isolated reality the Game Moderator had placed them within - proceeded to have a nice little killing contest of, you guessed it, Grimm.

Strength-Jaune made a straightforward, uncomplicated method of shot-putting a Goliath, through a Goliath, into another Goliath, and pushing the state of matter to make the two intact Goliaths overload with force at a molecular level, shredding the beasts and causing a convenient explosion, which took out four smaller Goliaths that were supposed to protect them, totalling an 8.8 on the awesome scale.

Dexterity-Jaune moved through the resultant horde, causing mono-atomic issues within each of them which quickly destroyed the army through nuclear fusion, but the ensuing gas cloud ruined the sunshine over in Vacuo, which meant that he scored only a 7.1.

Vitality-Jaune simply stayed in one place with a Heavy Combi-Dust Machinegun and mowed down all the Grimm, one after the other. Whilst it would have made for an excellent action video, the scene really did get boring after the first two minutes, much more so after the third hour. He merited a 4.1.

Intelligence-Jaune rekindled the audience of six's interest by having a true-to-the-features-in-the-sky cloud of hovering nanomachines slice a Leviathan to bits whilst he recycled its body, remade it by reconstructing it on the atomic scale, built a superweapon with the resulting metals formed from Grimm flesh, devised a system to disintegrate Grimm and generate power at the same time, and proceed to vaporise a Kingdom's worth of Grimm with the rapid-fabricated heat-based megalaser, but as it totalled fifteen minutes it was a bit of a stretch for time. 8.2 was his final score.

The hosting Wisdom-Jaune had asked the Luck-Jaune to take the action first, to which the said lucky bastard stepped up eagerly, and the wiser man stepped back, Delusory-illusion imitating a silent whistle. The Luck-Jaune took care of fifty Deathstalkers in total, choosing flashy poses and gritty tricks like kicking at one's face only to shoot the stinger which moved to sting him. The series of stunts totalled a 8.4.

And the hosting Jaune declared that he convinced the previous Jaune to do his work for him. Amidst disapprovingly bemused stares and boos, the man kept on smiling and said that as a Roma always repays his debts, he would proceed to clear the intended Luck-based Jaune's Grimm for him. Upon which the battle took place in the sky, facing tens of thousands of Nevermore and other flying creatures, much to the Wisdom-Jaune's annoyance. After having Levant quickly cluster them together with a tornado, the man chomped down on a few Dust Crystals, solely and singularly for the purpose of charging the Lux Aeterna ability. The resultant attack reached the mass of close-flying Grimm, reached a point, and then began dispersing outwards in a continuously fuelled implosion. Thankfully, the planet's crust wasn't too badly cracked by the manoeuvre, though a few continents over a few farmers started wondering why the sun had rose and fell back to sleep again.

The Wisdom-Jaune was quickly declared the victor and leader of them.

But the ensuing argument was still unsolved - was he the best?

Naturally, everyone voted themselves as the best, citing specialization at their role.

Then the host Wisdom-Jaune declared they would settle it in a battle of words.

It may or may not have been pure coincedence that the Luck-Jaune quipped; "What, like a rap battle?"

.-x-.

The scene - delusionary or Delusory, one can never decide - came to focus on a makeshift stage atop a mountain. Strength-Jaune was in his fully Apotheosied regalia - Gold Adamantium plate covering near all his body, and a monumental hammer in hand.

 _"I am the Titan Arc,_  
 _the difference 'tween you and I is stark!_  
 _I can lift up the world_  
 _while you're still fumbling in the dark!_  
 _I've got all the world's strength resting on my shoulders,_  
 _Worshipped like a god, throwing mythics like boulders!_  
 _When was the last time you wondered of the power in your arm?_  
 _Just admit it; the path of Strength will preserve you from harm!"_

The scene changed to a well-kept room in a grand manor. Dexterity-Jaune took the center focus, looking dapper in a monomolecular-edged-razor-cut suit and utterly serene.

 _"The power in your arm? More like the dung in your barn._  
 _I, the Void Master Arc, throw you to the cats with the yarn._  
 _Dexterity, or rather motion, is mine to command,_  
 _I can unleash force itself simply by lifting my hand._  
 _Zero-Point of the Universe, that is my title and name!_  
 _In the morass of total Equilibrium, I can leave you to shame._  
 _Altering force in motion itself is a wonderful game,_  
 _But you didn't pick Dexterity - for that only you're to blame."_

The scene changed again to the inside of a mountain-sized supercomputer. Also known as Intelligence-Jaune's workshop.

 _"The force in motion, what a wonderful resource!_  
 _Always failing when you need it with not a single bit of remorse._  
 _My technology and resources,_  
 _Feed the entire world's forces,_  
 _Even as I look peruse your weakness like glancing through dinner courses!_  
 _Your brain, such a great host!_  
 _Nanomachines, it can hold a hundred at most!_  
 _Oh wait, you didn't select Intelligence._  
 _Destroying you will be easy due to your belligerence."_

The scene that was painted from here was one of utter devastation - trenches and poison gas, barbed wire and artillery craters, blood and guts, sweat and death. Also known as just another day on the job for the Vitality-Jaune.

 _"Now, you all need to be taken back to boot camp,_  
 _I'll shove you through the gate and stick on your scalps your head-stamp._  
 _Here's a lesson you should all have learned in school;_  
 _There's nothing to be said when you die for looking cool._  
 _The greatest sniper? The most organized hive?_  
 _Don't matter jack shit if you don't man up and survive!_  
 _I united the Kingdoms under one banner and name!_  
 _My unwanted reward, heroism and fame._  
 _Don't need that crap, you looking for a star in totality?_  
 _Look somewhere else, I am the paragon of Vitality."_

The scene abruptly changed into a wide, open and red-dusty valley with a banjo twanging away in the distance. Home on the ranch, with the Lucky Jaune.

 _"Hey y'all, I'm a lucky man tonight!_  
 _'cause y'all rolled in with the tumbleweed, all weak and all dry!_  
 _I'll shoot you up and trade yer kit for a pony!_  
 _Who knows, maybe yer head'll fetch the price for baloney!_  
 _Darin' and grit has been the way of the game!_  
 _'t's been the reachin' way forward, and if my name_  
 _Ain't the Lone Ranger, then hell, I can still put y'all to shame!_  
 _Down in flame! You're all the same!_  
 _A Roughneck's life it is, and the Wasteland I can tame!"_

The scene changed to the place for which the Host Wisdom-Jaune's adventure began - back in his house, in the kitchen, dishes done and drying.

 _"Please, do not fight. Conserve your energy._  
 _The nature of battle is fickle and oh-so-cagey._  
 _It's the better choice to keep some cards in reserve,_  
 _That's called Wisdom - no stat will any better serve._  
 _I do small-time things, but I always come out on top._  
 _Fifty-fifty chance means completely shitty odds._  
 _You just need to step up your game and rig it further your way!_  
 _And who knows, you might yet just save the day._  
 _But if you need another demonstration of Wisdom averting life tolls,_  
 _Prepare yourselves, because now we take a journey to the soul."_

The scene changed, again. But this time it was because the Wisdom-Jaune removed his Delusory ability - both the backgrounds for their contest of words and the one covering up the glow from his Aureola. As he let into existence Bai Hu around him, he also turned Delusory on again to distort his voice. Making it come from both everywhere, and nowhere.

 _"I am a luminous being beyond physical dependancies,_  
 _The world quakes as I pass, juggernauts flinch at my potency,_  
 _A vast arsenal of spells I can unleash with a thought,_  
 _Your chances of success can be summed up with 'nought'._  
 _If you can stand against all the Elements and against Nature itself,_  
 _Then I will gladly sideline, you can make a fool of yourself._  
 _When you crash and burn, I will splash and turn_  
 _Your loss into my gain, and even as you will yearn_  
 _The Holy Virtues swell my power, a true godsend._  
 _All you have is sin - and your soul be condemned_  
 _But one must suppose, this is the fate you chose_  
 _When you discarded Wisdom in your power-hungry throes."_

* * *

WHO WON? WHO'S NEXT? YOU DECIDE!

E-E-E-EPIC RAP BATTLES OF REMNANT!

Post Location: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/page-51#post-17815897


	6. Chapter 6

**The original work which these are based on may be found on Spacebattles. Search for "The Games We Play" by the one and only Ryuugi. His icon is a red-backed Darth Vader looking to choke you. Fittingly, the caption of it is 'Who's your Daddy?'**

 **To clarify - these are my omakes for another story. They can be counted as a mini-series in terms of length, but the original premise behind them is not mine. Credit to Ryuugi for the setting; to me goes simple skill in putting something together that doesn't look too bad.**

 **The latest thread's index may be found here: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/**

 **At the time of writing, it was up to the 160th page.**

 **Thank you for your time. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **The Games We Play Omake - Game Moderator series**  
 **A Chaplain's Speech**

I'd like to say that I have a fairly good handle on things, most of the time.

That being said, I was somewhat stunned when the Janitor decided to put me and Malkuth in a room, and mediate the discussion.

I was about to unleash a bombardment of either questions or attacks, as the situation would warrant. But then I noticed that both my soul's long-distant brother and myself didn't technically exist. Chalking it up to the Janitor twisting reality itself in his usual Janitorial crap, I just sat back and assessed my foe.

From what my Empathy and Observe skills told me, he seemed fine, if a little confused. And more than a little upset. Apparently he hadn't intended to meet so early.

My somewhat more recently acquired skill, Enkindle? That told a whole different story.

If a thread of gossamer - or maybe copper-nickel wire - were to be stitched through a lump of softened coal and held up to the light, then that may have been an accurate representation of the mind. Physical, unlit, activated presence spliced by brightly gleaming thoughts. The process of a thought happening was, to put it in metaphor, like a tiny bead within that thread got all the brightness of a dwarf star, which proceeded to travel along the rest of that thread. Subconscious thought was essentially putting three perpendicularly aligned x-rays together to get a cohesive result in three dimensions of the bead of thought travelling, and collaborating the results of the clusters of fixed human essence that it hit.

Or at least, that's what the sensation felt like. With normal, ordinary humans. I can only describe so much in words.

With Malkuth, on the other hand?

Well. We were made from the dying emnations of billions of souls. Apparently that extended to the very stuff that we were made of, because the people that composed us literally composed us.

What I'm meaning to describe is that instead of the usual human presence and points that were there, Malkuth's mind was composed of tiny peoples' innards. Nerves and clusters dotted here and there, muscles could move one part to another, skin itself held the whole thing in segments and other such... components made the thing up.

I kind of felt like puking. Thank Monty for Body of the Enlightened.

So I'm placed here by the faux-douchebag in charge of making everything to begin with, with the currently-evil douchebag that was still currently screwing over humanity by limiting them to only a specific number of people. Fantastic.

The conversation begun. Oh boy did it begin. That sure is the beginning of a conversation there.

.-x-.

"And I re-iterate the point." Malkuth stated, routing the argument back to the topic of the necessity of setting boundaries for mankind. "It is not profitable to let mankind run about free unguided."

"Of course not." I conceded. "Hence why they will be guided not by what they're limited to, but by how I will guide them."

"There is likely to be a large amount of dissent and resistance to your rule. They will rebel, and they will secede against you."

"Rule? No. Of course not. I won't rule at all."

"... Excuse me? Then what do you intend to do at that point in time?" Malkuth asked.

I took a second to pause. Partially to gather my thoughts, partially for dramatic effect.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I would like to help everyone if possible. Human, Faunus, Hunter, civilian."

My statement was met with brief incredulity from my conversational adversary. Probably because I was aiming for something so low.

"We want to prosper, yes. We want capability and dominion, yes. But underneath all that we want to care for one another. Human beings are like that. We don't want to hate and despise one another."

I continued, at the risk of ploughing onward into the subject of world domination - something long since discussed.

"On this world there is room for everyone, and the good earth is rich, and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free, and beautiful!"

"But... we have lost the way." I stated the not-so-subtle point.

"Greed has poisoned humanity's souls." Malkuth read ahead, catching on to my line of thought.

"It's barricaded the world with hate. Goose-stepped the human race deeper into the perpetual misery and bloodshed. We've developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Remember the Panties of Matter and Energy?"

The being that was Malkuth smiled. Some things stuck in memory after all.

"Our knowledge and our power has made us cynical. Our cleverness hard and unkind."

"Put simply; we think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities life will be violent."

"And all will be lost..." Malkuth completed the line.

"As it was time and time again." I broke the line of thought. For the strangest reason, I got the vague feeling that sort of line of thought had been said by a certain great dictator, perhaps a long, long time back. "In any case, we can't keep doing this the way we did back then. We were all-powerful, but we were still human. Are still human. And if Power corrupts..."

"What are you saying, Keter?" the being that was Malkuth said. And for the first time I'd heard it, the being was scared.

"If being human is the problem, then, well. I'll just have to become more than human, won't I?"

And with naught save a hissing breath, the Kingdom was silent at the Crown's proclamation.

* * *

Post location: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/page-106#post-17998998


	7. Chapter 7

**The original work which these are based on may be found on Spacebattles. Search for "The Games We Play" by the one and only Ryuugi. His icon is a red-backed Darth Vader looking to choke you. Fittingly, the caption of it is 'Who's your Daddy?'**

 **To clarify - these are my omakes for another story. They can be counted as a mini-series in terms of length, but the original premise behind them is not mine. Credit to Ryuugi for the setting; to me goes simple skill in putting something together that doesn't look too bad.**

 **The latest thread's index may be found here: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/**

 **At the time of writing, it was up to the 160th page.**

 **Thank you for your time. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **The Games We Play Omake - Game Moderator series**  
 **Beacons, Belching and assorted Bullshittery**

Since when was so many explosives they could paint the moon cherry pie red a part of the student diet? Whatever the reasoning behind the inane decision, I could very clearly see both the Janitor and his meal from my own place in Beacon's lunchroom, where they had crammed us and forced pig-slop down our throats. Well, someone else would have said they gave us the dining hall with no holds barred to the larders. The Vytal Festival - and subsequently the Competition - was in full swing and naturally I showed the utterly fascinating fascinating texture of the dirt under my feet to the poor buggers that were unlucky enough to face me. But apparently some people can only take so much of an ass-kicking, and the rest of the tournament was postponed. It was nearly the worst part of my day - first place goes to Autumn discovering fingernails on her own and promptly figured out that hangnails are a thing. I was incensed. How dare Creation put such a pointless and frustratingly tedious function into existence.

I stood and bade my fellow competitors and/or future victims a quick I'll-be-back, promptly making a beeline to his location. Un-or-okay-a-little-surprisingly, he was decked out in the overalls of an actual member of the Janitorial staff within the school. Ignoring the blank screens that Observe gave me, I calmly walked over. Ignoring the amateurs that gawked and gaped whilst Adam took my right side a few steps behind me.

Taking a seat next to the being that all but ruled this existence might have proved a little tricky to someone who cared about petty things like mess and tidiness, as apparently the dude was a messy eater... again, if explosives could be counted as food. For me, I just took the time to idly brushing aside the casings of landmines and the circuitry of plastic explosives with a Psychokinetic sweep. Or rather, I didn't take the time to sweep it all off with my hand.

Neither of us spoke for the next few seconds as Adam took his seat too - myself beside the Janitor, Adam opposite me. The fun began, though, when Ozpin arrived and deigned it imperative that he join us at the four-man table.

None of us spoke for a while. It seemed like a good way to go.

"So." the Janitor broke the silence just like he snapped a lump of C-20 clay into eighths. "Whatever happened to Garfunkel?"

The three of us - myself, the headmaster and the headmaster - patiently waited, because apparently he decided to make no sense whatsoever again. Well, that's why I did it at the very least. Adam knows his place. Can't say whether or not Glynda had the headmaster house-trained.

"Well? Come on, what happened to him? You all love the sound of silence so much, you must be devotees." the explosively-bestomached individual quipped. I briefly noticed that time had stopped. Literally, stopped. Outside our table, all molecular movement and quantum change had fallen to a flat halt. I'm not even surprised anymore.

"What sound?" I asked.

"The Sound of Silence." the Janitor replied.

"The sound of silence?" I reacted in the place of the other two - with camp levels of incredulity.

"Well, yes. Silence is generally what it sounds like." the Janitor replied.

"The sound of silence sounds like silence." Adam flatly stated.

"Hasn't that been established? By, y'know, common sense?" the Janitor replied.

"How does this Garfunkel come into this?" Ozpin queried, ever implacable.

"Isn't it obvious? I want him to draw it!"

"Why do you-" I began.

"Dooooon't'chu you worry about why I want it drawn. Just what happened to Garfunkel? Please tell me." The Janitor interrupted me and asked the question.

"Tell you what?!" I asked in exasperation.

"The Sound of Silence!"

I closed my eyes and bowed in frustration thrice onto the tabletop. The stupid thing to do. Thing was, around this fucker I felt like either a complete idiot or the smartest man in the world.

* * *

Post location: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/page-142#post-18201186


	8. Chapter 8

**The original work which these are based on may be found on Spacebattles. Search for "The Games We Play" by the one and only Ryuugi. His icon is a red-backed Darth Vader looking to choke you. Fittingly, the caption of it is 'Who's your Daddy?'**

 **To clarify - these are my omakes for another story. They can be counted as a mini-series in terms of length, but the original premise behind them is not mine. Credit to Ryuugi for the setting; to me goes simple skill in putting something together that doesn't look too bad.**

 **The latest thread's index may be found here: threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/**

 **At the time of writing, it was up to the 160th page.**

 **Thank you for your time. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **The Games We Play Omake - Game Moderator Series**  
 **Life, A Curious Thing**  
(Or as some would have it, Malkuth's New Game+)

I do not know the precise moment my sentience arose. I simply begun work. At some point in time I may have been a singular existence bound within a single form, but I was as such no more.

My earliest self-acknowledged thought process was the confirmation of the need to discover the factors in play which may impact my possible function, followed by the equally required information of which forces were able to limit me, and secondly what were the laws my work was to follow.

Determining the laws was simple enough. Within my iron-nickel core I had plenty of room to experiment, and with the ability to change matter by altering the continuous existence of the energies which made up the atoms of which matter consisted, it was simple enough to begin every type of experimentation on a microscopic scale. I created vacuums and began to work.

Every single form of matter was easy enough to form. I was already aware of one hundred and eighteen types of matter. The method of which I became aware of them is unknown to me. I simply knew they existed. Recreating matter was reasonably efficient - by inserting precise amounts of the energy required to form matter and by ordering that energy into formation, I was able to create pure amounts of the elements within my core.

My discovery of the world began.

At the rate I was able to manipulate, observe and learn from the experiments conducted in compartments deep within the world's core, enforced vacuums in place and shielded from heat and outside influences, soon enough I had an adequate breadth of knowledge about what I was able to manipulate, and not only how it functioned but also how its forms acted under the force of energy. To list three examples, Carbon was easily reactive with Oxygen, but when Oxygen was removed and the temperature was raised beyond Carbon's melting point it became a zero-percent-loss superconductor of electrical energy. Helium gas was light and stable, but when placed in a liquid state it achieved a state of zero viscosity. Uranium was dense and radioactive, but the process of its enrichment resulted as a by-product that was dense, stable and notably resistant to the same radiation the enriched product and other elements emitted.

I soon knew a sufficiently large amount, and decided to end my operation there for an indefinite period of time.

Then I became aware of life.

In order to comprehend a true objective observation one will acknowledge that in relation to its surroundings, Life is a curious and unstable thing. Born from the mixing of protozoic slimes, developing while constantly consuming other forms of life, and existing seemingly only to consume and spread itself. My first impression, to use the term, of Life was that they were parasites. Consuming and spreading and developing themselves relative to their surroundings, with insufficient means of preserving the existence of their descendants in the long term and thinking only along the lines they developed for themselves. Perfectly willing to invent abstract concepts for themselves, imagined factors which made them different from the other only in line of thinking. Viewpoints which influenced said factors, and allowed for the destruction of the other for arbitrary definitions of gain that had naught to do with survival.

I required knowledge about this factor.

I determined that in order to begin determining how Life operated, I needed to conduct experimentations of my own. To this process, I fabricated tens of thousands of humans close to the hives of Life and let them operate as they would. Immediately, thousands began dying even as they fed me back information. I lost eight thousand, five hundred and two due to the initial issue of the fabricated humans not knowing how to breathe. The rest survived, and began flailing and screaming in their first desperate movements of existence as though they were new-borns.

After an hour or two of the noise, eventually the inhabitants of the human hives found them and took them in. There was a large amount of the confirmation that none of the humans had any idea what to do with my fabricated ones.

Humankind brought out something new then. An individual among them, that was capable of manipulating small-scale operation within the chemical processing cores located in their cortexes. I would later learn that the individual was called a telepath, and that it used its Semblance to open up psychic channels with which it could alter and view the thought processes of other beings. I had at first thought it was simple interference and viewing of synaptic firing rate and patterns. I would later learn that the hive humans were distressed at first the lack of clothes they wore, and secondly how the fabricated humans stared and twitched to look at whatever they would. It was the mark that they were indeed not aware of how to live.

But in lieu of immediate results as my chemical experiments wrought, I found more important information; the fact that there was a series of factors above the physical - the existence of souls and Aura.

.-x-.

My newest discovery was not of how Life existed. At the time, I was simply not aware of what was the correct approach relating to Life, and all of its assets.

I tried a different tactic. A passive observation of the long-term process rather than direct experimentation from immediate results. It would require focusing my presence and awareness, to experience it on a first-hand perspective - or in layman's terms, to construct myself a form and to limit this experiment's factors to it and it alone. For the sake of operational simplicity, I deigned to render it similar to the physiology of the humans. Bipedal locomotion, with biocular and biacoustic sensory organs, with a chemical analyzer above the mouth, where one jaw and one row of sturdy fangs would facilitate the consumption of materiel for the fuelling of continued operation. After a brief analysis of the information I was still receiving from my estimated ninety thousand fabricated humans, I had learned that the hive humans - calling their hives 'Kingdoms', despite having no monarchs - valued information greatly, due to the processes of twisting and altering data. I determined it would remove the chance of my experiment being irrevocably ruined if I appeared to be similar to them.

At that same day, at the zero-point of the eleventh hour of my existence, I concluded the design of my firsthand probe and launched it into the world for operation.

It was fortuitous, then, that out of a ten to the negative three hundred chance to emerge randomly at that precise location, my probe emerged close to the being referred to by some individuals as Keter.

Our first contact did not yield conclusive results. The being blasted my form out of existence with an attack I would know later as Lux Aeterna, the unleashing of the residual energy of Creation and totally wiping my probe from existence. I registered its loss, and generated another near the same place - which was not difficult a feat, as I already knew the location of it. The second time, the being that glowed white was surprised.

The next instance, and notably the first one where my experiment was interfered with, was when a being came into existence instantaneously next to Keter. The term 'instantaneous' being literal. One moment where the being stood there was nothing, and the next it was as if he had been there all along.

I listened through my probe as the two conversed. The one who had appeared, referred to as Janitor by Keter, explained to him that I was apparently the reincarnation of Malkuth, or at least I was supposed to be. Keter's experimentation with the raw force of Entropy, made into an attack and levelled against the Malkuth being had completely shredded the soul and scattered it into inexistence. I was supposedly so close to being devoid of soul that it was a completely new instance within creation.

The Janitor and Keter conversed for some time after that. Eventually, they came to an agreement for my repurposement - a tool for the more worldly of the two. The being Keter appeared stunned by something only he could see. Then the Janitor being made it visible to me too - a small box, floating at the fore of my vision.

 **Call Malkuth (Passive & Active) LV1, EXP 0.01%**  
 **By vanquishing your archenemy and shredding his soul so thoroughly, his being sunk into the world, and then became it. As the cycle of existence begins anew, what remains of your enemy is under your command - to crush nations and to destroy those who would defy you, or rebuild the world and construct new wonders as you see fit.**  
 **Power to Action ratio: 200,000 MP = 1 Material Wish**  
 **Able to summon 1 Lesser form.**  
 **Malkuth Form is able to augment 1 additional trait for each body part of both caster and Form within the limits of physical improvements. Power of augmentation is determined by caster' WIS and INT scores.**  
 **Malkuth Form has 3 active abilities.**

And lesser notifications underneath it read:

 **Directed Strike (Active): Neutralizes all Aura and Semblance effects in a 20m radius with the next ranged attack.**  
 **Critical Strike (Active): Deals 3x the physical damage applied on the next attack.**  
 **Matter Fusion Defense (Active): Negates 35% of the next energy-based attack by reforming it into a selectable element and discarding it.**

A rapid analysis made it clear for me that it was not a hologram. The information meant nothing to me, as I lacked context. And it appeared that it all was beyond my control.

I desired information, and yet it appeared denied to me now.

The being known as Keter ordered me away, and I moved my physical form elsewhere.

I began planning out the improvements for my form as my new situation demanded it. Keter's Semblance took up a 'video game' format - videogames themselves being simulations with rudimentary systems for measuring and improving the capablities of an individual.

Sharing thoughts with the Crown, I decided to get to work and make myself into videogame format, so as to better integrate myself with his operations. My abilities were somewhat hampered by the fact I had to relay things through the Crown's Metal Elemental and parse it through his Craft skill after that, but aside from weight distribution and armoring quality on the molecular scale my work didn't lose too much in the way of its precision. I settled for a heightened frame with both denser and larger physique and skeletal structure alike. Building myself along the lines of 'Tank Shocker' - though that role was well held by his Familiar; I decided to go with extra versatility as opposed to Tiangou's raw power - with several sets of redundant organs, a powerful physique and superb armor of a Titanium-Palladium-Iridium-Uranium alloy, with added Dust and Aura imbuing of the metals involved, it seemed as if I would survive.

Then my query of this form's survival became redundant, because an extra addition was made to my ability's description.

 **Damage dealt to the Malkuth Form reflects on user's MP. Malkuth Form's armour quality mitigates damage.**  
 **Damage mitigation: 87.2%**

That was the end of that issue.

But not of the one of armament - simply because I had a few abilities did not mean that I could 'throw snowballs all day', as the Crown put it. I then devised the most base means of putting down the enemy I could have conceived at that time, which was the outright disintegration of them at an atomic level. It worked by effectively magnifying my ability's reach and affecting whatever I shot at. This in fact was something pointlessly inane, as my power was resident in every single form of physical matter on the world and given a slightly greater duration of time I would achieve the same results without the need for the weapon, but such was the limits of the Crown that were imposed on me.

It was perhaps the impact of souls and consciousness that the Crown's thoughts turned childishly gleeful, the words 'nuclear shotgun' repeating themselves for some time. The Crown added a function to my weapon - to focus the function of the thing massively, so that instead of a wide, destabilizing burst it would function as a much lower-powered but much more accurate beam. Effectively becoming a long-range rifle.

With that, we were prepared and ready.

That form was restricted to the Crown. But I still required more information about this world I was within. So I made a second form, and with my new senses developed for Aura-enhanced life I sent it towards the most stable concentration of it in the world. A school for fledgling Hunters, as they called themselves, and so did they call the place Beacon.

* * *

Post location: /threads/rwby-the-gamer-the-games-we-play-disk-five.341621/page-159#post-18282642


End file.
